


Ready-Made

by sasha_davidovna



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-03
Updated: 2006-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-02 16:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_davidovna/pseuds/sasha_davidovna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus among the werewolves. Set during HBP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready-Made

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for lazy_neutrino for the springtime_gen exchange.
> 
> Thanks to my excellent betas, bloodrebel333 and gehayi, for their help and suggestions. Any remaining flaws are mine alone.

Once, I suppose, the old farmstead must have been a pleasant place, alive with the sounds of livestock and children and country folk. At any rate, someone had once laid the stonework with loving care and thatched the roofs thick and cosy. The stones still stood firm, but the roofs sagged in places and a big chunk of the thatching above the stables had fallen through entirely. The windows below were dark and empty and the smell of rot and decay hung thick in the air, mixing unpleasantly with the cleaner scents of the forest around it. Without plows and scythes to keep the woods at bay, the brambles had grown up thick and wild around the buildings, so that only the centre of the complex was entirely free of them.

I muttered every detection spell I could think of at the rusty latch on the gate, but it seemed clean, so I unlatched it and stepped into the courtyard, Even then, I was half expecting to be blasted where I stood, but apparently Greyback didn't have enough magic for that. His master certainly did, however, and I thought it odd that Greyback had not...

Of course, I reflected a moment later with a rusty knife at my throat, there are entirely effective non-magical means of welcoming unexpected guests as well.

"Who are you?" A deep voice rasped in my ear.

"My name is Remus Lupin," I said.

"Lupin," he said, relaxing his hold on my hair. “One of us then? How did you find us? Usually we find you.”

"I heard ... rumours," I said. It was true enough, just not the whole truth.

There was a snort. "Rumours? From who? They'd better shut up if they know what’s good for them. We can’t have rumours."

"In that case, I rather think I’ll keep that information to myself."

"My, my, don’t we talk pretty?" The other werewolf released my hair and came around to peer down at me, leaving the knife pricking ever so delicately at my jugular. My captor was a big man, tall and broad shouldered, but thin. He didn’t look like he’d had a bath in years, an estimate his odour did not contradict. I felt my nose twitch in protest and he noticed and laughed.

"Haven’t been one of us for long, eh?" he chortled.

"Since I was six, actually," I said, and he frowned and poked the knife a little harder against my throat.

"Six, eh? Where’ve you been all this time? You’re not young now."

"I was abroad for a long time," I said, "and I had friends who helped me when I was home, but they’re all dead now and I’ve nowhere else to go."

"Huh," he snorted. "Tell it to old Greyback. This way."

He grabbed my arm and frog-marched me towards the biggest of the buildings surrounding the courtyard, the old barn. A tall, rangy woman with masses of tangled straw-coloured hair was lounging inside the open doorway. "Who’s he?" she asked, jumping up and prowling over to look me up and down appraisingly. "One of us, he is," she laughed after a moment, pinching my arm. "Look how skinny he is! Ain’t they been feeding you where you come from? Fucking humans." She spat eloquently at my feet and moved aside to let us pass.

Inside it was dim and quiet, the light from the open shutters above barely penetrating to the ground level. Soft breathing and gentle rustling noises emanated from some of the stalls, the only sign the building was occupied. The man marched me down the centre of the barn to the last stall, farthest from the door. Most of the others had plain wooden doors, or none at all, but the last had been fitted out with iron bars and a heavy lock and I confess I balked a little at the sight, memories of my childhood cage flooding back.

"Be grateful," the other man said, pushing me forward. "They tied me up. I thought my hands was like to fall off by the time night fell." He unlocked the chain with one hand and shoved me unceremoniously inside the stall, shutting the door behind him with a soft thud and a rattle of keys and chains before disappearing back into the gloom. I watched him go and turned back to examine the cell. It was surprisingly roomy, considering, but the straw was matted together and dark with mildew and rot. The odor was almost unbearable and I whispered a quick spell to make it more pleasant. I piled some of the cleaner straw against the wall and settled myself as comfortably as I could to wait for whatever it was Greyback had in store for me.

Night came slowly, but at last the shadows in the old barn grew so long and dark as to be impenetrable. I heard low voices and rustlings coming from the other stalls and, a little later, a deep voice calling the pack together. There was a burst of activity, which ended when Greyback himself emerged from the darkness to unlock the door, his pack behind him.

I had never before seen the human form of the werewolf who had bitten me. For much of my life, I had hoped I never would and now that the moment was upon me, I found myself unable to suppress a surge of bitterness; at my father for his long-ago thoughtlessness; at Greyback for choosing the monster; at Dumbledore for asking this of me. I shoved it away, hoping it didn't show on my face. I might as well blame Sirius and James as Dumbledore. While I was at it, why not everyone who had ever tried to help me? What absurdity. Now was hardly the time for recriminations.

Greyback himself was exactly what I had expected, a big, barrel-chested man, only slightly shorter than the man who had greeted me so ceremoniously that morning. His hair and beard were long and matted with straw and twigs and something that I devoutly hoped was not dried blood, although I am almost certain from the odour that hung around him like a festering aura that it was. Greyback grinned, revealing pointed yellow teeth.

"So, Remus Lupin," he drawled. "Swift here tells me you're of a mind to join us at last."

"I am," I said.

"Are you ready to be tested?"

"Tested?"

Greyback smirked. "Of course. You didn't think we'd just let you in?"

"Er, no. What kind of test?"

Greyback clicked his tongue. "Patience. If you pass, you'll never have to be patient again. It's not too much to ask this one last time, I hope?"

I shook my head and Greyback turned back to his back. "Fangtooth, Swift, I want you to keep a close eye on this one," he said loudly. My earlier captor, Swift, I presumed, emerged from the shadows behind him with another, younger man with pale, dull hair, who curled back his lips at me in a grimace that revealed teeth filed to sharp points in imitation of his leader. They seized me under the arms once more and marched me out of the cell. Greyback led us outside, the pack parting as he passed through and closing after me and my companions, padding silently behind like, well, wolves on the prowl, frankly. I have to give Greyback credit. I've never known such a large group to move so silently. My own footfalls sounded like a dragon's in comparison.

Greyback led us across the old farmyard and out the gate, into the tangled woods that lay beyond. I winced at every crack of twig and crackle of leaves beneath my feet and distinctly heard the younger man snigger at several of the larger twigs. Finally even Greyback responded, whirling angrily around after a particularly loud snap. "You have a lot to learn, werewolf," he growled. "How the hell did you survive this long making that kind of noise?"

Swift snorted. "He had _friends_."

Greyback laughed out loud. "There's no such things as _friends_, werewolf. Not friends between werewolves and wizards at any rate. There's only using. So, were you using them or were they using you?"

My mouth felt dry. "Bit of both, really, I suppose,' I said, trying to sound casual.

Greyback snorted. "So you think. They hate our kind, they do, and if they couldn’t use you they would have killed you, mark my words. Just as you would kill them. Werewolves and wizards can’t be friends and if you think they can, then you are a fool and you will _fail_."

"I may be a fool," I said. "But I will not fail."

"Huh," Greyback snorted. "We'll see about that." And he led us on.

About ten minutes later, the forest began to thin and soon I found myself standing at the edge of the trees, looking out across a moonlit meadow to a dark cottage with a garden and a rickety looking chicken coop. The other werewolves spread themselves out along the edge, crouching behind trees and bushes.

"Like I said," Greyback said, pushing Swift and the other werewolf away and snaking a big arm across my shoulders. "We can’t have you staying with us if you won’t be contributing, can we? We’re always hungry, Remus Lupin, and we don’t want to feed another mouth unless you can feed ours too. So, I advise you to watch out for the dogs. They’re mean buggers, and they like the taste of werewolf."

"By myself?" I asked.

"I said it was a test, didn’t I?" Greyback shoved me forward and I stumbled into the moonlit field. I took a deep breath, ignoring Fangtooth’s snigger, and set off across the field. There was one advantage, at least, to living among wizards. I didn’t dare show my wand, but I hadn’t got the highest marks in my year for wandless magic for nothing. It was one of the few things I’d done better than James and Sirius, much to my surprise and their endless consternation.

Only it wasn’t so endless after all, was it?

I shook my head and reminded myself again to concentrate. It wouldn’t do to be caught by surprise. I couldn't afford to fail. Where else would Dumbledore find such a ready-made spy?

A dog lay sprawled across the coop's doorway, snoring gently. "_Dormio_," I whispered, and cast a muffling spell on the hinges, just in case. They moaned slightly as I eased the door open and stepped inside. The coop was almost pitch black, but as my eyes adjusted, I made out the pale, plump forms of the sleeping chickens. I cast another muffling spell, took a deep breath, grabbed the nearest of the sleeping birds, and wrenched off her head. The wings flapped futilely as I laid her body by the door and grabbed the next.

The noise of their headless compatriots' flapping began to wake up the other birds and I had to cast three Dormios and another muffling spell before the job was finished. By the time I was done I was covered in blood, feathers, and shit-encrusted straw, and when I gathered up the bodies, whatever clean areas remained were soiled like the rest. I stumbled back into the moonlight, stepping carefully over the still-sleeping watchdog, and down the steps.

Then I heard the growling. I peered over the pile of feathery bodies in my arms to see an enormous black dog, part Rottweiler and part grizzly bear, apparently, moving slowly toward me with fangs bared. "_Silencio_!" I hissed frantically, but that split second cost me, for the dog leaped, its great jaws snapping noiselessly but hardly ineffectively.

I jumped backwards, dropping the chickens and feeling teeth catch and rip into my clothing as I tripped on the edge of the stairs and went down with a thud that woke the other dog. "_Silencio, silencio_," I gasped, rolling away to avoid the grizzly’s snapping jaws at my heels and springing back to my feet, just as the smaller dog leaped and crashed into my chest, knocking me over again. I shoved my hands against the snapping jaws, feeling something sharp sink into my calf.

"_Petrificus totalis_," I gasped desperately. The dog at my throat keeled over onto the grass and I gasped in pain as the other jumped onto my stomach, one foot scrabbling for traction and finding it against my groin. "_Petrificus totalis_!" I repeated, collapsing back against the grass in relief as the grizzly landed next to its companion on the ground.

I lay there for a moment while my breathing returned to normal, then sat up to inspect the damage to my leg. It was a nasty bite and my lone pair of trousers was shredded and soaked in blood and spittle, but I had had worse. I muttered a quick cleaning spell on the wound and got shakily to my feet.

The dogs' eyes glared at me accusingly and I paused. Was this a Muggle household or a wizarding one? I didn't know and decided, just in case, that the dogs ought to look like they'd put up a fight.

"I'm very sorry," I whispered, patting them awkwardly as their throats vibrated with silent growls. I kicked them in the head and removed the spell, allowing them to go limp. The house was still dark as I wearily gathered up the chickens once again and staggered back to the woods.

"How the hell did you do it so quietly?" Greyback demanded when I deposited the pile of birds at his feet.

"I believe you asked earlier if it was I who used them or they who used me?" I panted. "There are certain uses for wizards."

"Aye. Dinner!"

I gestured towards the pile of chickens. "Indeed."

Greyback's eyes narrowed ominously but by then the rest of the pack was crowding around, eyeing the birds hungrily.

"He used magic?" one of the young men said petulantly. "That’s cheating!"

Greyback whirled on him, his eyes and teeth flashing in the dim light, and the younger man cringed back against the large-boned woman behind him. "If you don’t want your share, I’m sure any one of us would be happy to take it off your hands for you!" Greyback snarled. The youth ducked his head even lower, looking as if he was trying to disappear. "Good," Greyback said, turning away derisively. He bent down and picked through the birds, selecting the largest, and then waved a hand at the rest of the pack, who converged eagerly around the pile, each member grabbing a bird in turn until the last few, who shared. They did not leave one for me and I wondered if this was part of the test.

They drifted off into the woods and the forest floor was soon thick with feathers. I crouched at the base of a tree while Swift hovered nearby devouring one of the larger birds, bloody feathers clinging to his face as he ripped away at the carcass.

After a few minutes, a small, gray-haired woman who bore the unmistakable signs of a plump person who had lost a lot of weight much too quickly sidled over, keeping a nervous eye on Swift, who ignored her. She looked as though she had made an effort to wipe some of the blood off from around her mouth and her smile was warm as she proffered half of a small chicken.

"Take it," she said. "You'll need the strength. You shouldn't have let them know you can do magic like a wizard. They'll keep you busy now."

"I am a wizard," I said.

"Not anymore." She pushed the chicken into my hands. "Take it," she urged me again, smiling when I blanched. "You'll get used to it raw. I was the same when I came here, but it didn't last long. There's nothing else to eat. No fires allowed, of course. We can't let the wizards know where we are."

I took the bird and gingerly sank my teeth into the pale, bloody flesh, grimacing at the taste. The woman smiled and patted my arm. "That's right. Eat up," she said.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked, around a mouthful of the slippery flesh.

"Because," she said, "I was a wizard once too." She grinned. "Witch, that is. I was a healer, until I was bitten. They killed the poor beast who turned me, but I lost my job, of course. My name is Clara, Clara Silver."

My eyes flicked to her hair and she smiled and patted it. "I know. I thought it was appropriate. People always said it was such a pretty shade of silver." Her smile faded abruptly. "Couldn’t protect me from old Snazzletooth, though."

"I’ve heard of him. You were the witch they caught him attacking?"

"Yes, I was," she said. A little silence fell, and then she smiled brightly again. "Anyway, let me know if you need any help adjusting. Most of them were turned as children and don’t remember any other way."

"I was six," I said.

Her brows shot up. "Really? How did you last so long in the world?"

"I had friends."

"Wizards and werewolves can’t..."

"Be friends, I know. I've been told," I said. _There's only using_, Greyback’s voice rasped in my head, and I winced. They had used me, were using me even now, as entertainment, as a spy, as a fucking deadly weapon even, but they were still my _friends_, dammit.

Clara smiled gently. "Enjoy the bird," she said, and slipped away.

Without Swift and Fangtooth's firm grip on my arms, the walk back was much easier. I was determined to learn the silent footfalls of my fellows. Watching the ground was clearly not the answer – the quieter I tried to be, the louder the twigs cracked where they lay concealed under the fallen leaves and plants in the undergrowth.

Frustrated, I hung back to watch the others and the answer hit me as a ragged child glided by through the darkness. I was walking like a wizard, and an adult wizard at that, confident and straightforward. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs would have laughed at me no less than Swift did now. More, in fact, if I knew them and I thought at last that I did. A memory came drifting back to me, our first foray into post-curfew activities in the corridors of Hogwarts, and Sirius, looking down his nose with all the considerable disdain his eleven-year-old self could manage. "Honestly, Remus, is that the best you can do? Peter’s twice your weight but he’s quieter than you."

"I’m trying," I had protested. "My shoes squeak too loudly."

James had sniggered and Sirius had looked at me sternly. "We've all got the same shoes. Sneaking is not about shoes. Sneaking is a _state of mind_."

How could I have forgotten? Responsible adulthood had a lot to answer for. My body was not so fluid now, did not bend so readily to my will, but a hunch of shoulders and change of stride later and I too was gliding across the leaves as silently as a ghost. I saw the boy glance back in surprise as the forest fell silent once again and somewhere my own ghosts beamed approvingly.

_Thank you_, I told them silently. They had always helped me, my friends, and if they had used me too, well, they were only human. So was my father, who had long ago paid for his mistake, impoverishing himself seeking endlessly for a cure for me that never came. Even Dumbledore, omniscient and all-powerful as he sometimes seemed, had risked his career and reputation to allow me first to study and then to teach at Hogwarts. I must be grateful. Whatever had happened, whatever would come, I must be grateful. I must.

Back at the barn, the pack vanished into the shadows once more and I was left alone, except for Clara, who smiled tentatively and invited me to join her in her stall below the hayloft. It was small and dark, but did not smell so strongly of must and rot and I lay down in the straw beside her and fell instantly asleep.


End file.
